


Wait Here in This Desperate, Fleeting Time (The Consequences Soon Will All Rush In)

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dildos, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Pre-Battleworld, Soiled Gags, Throne Sex, Troy Baker Sings!, gapfiller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: In the undetermined span of time that Amora the Enchantress has a bespelled Thor in her clutches during season four of the Avengers Assemble: Secret Wars cartoon, Amora takes advantage of Thor's mentally weakened state in dastardly ways.





	Wait Here in This Desperate, Fleeting Time (The Consequences Soon Will All Rush In)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts).



> I've been trying to start and finish three different things this week, and this is the one that decided to pop out in an embarrassingly short amount of time after watching the end of the cabal arc in season four. I mourn not getting to actually see Loki drop by Amora's little asteroid, and I think Thor is well past due for some therapy, but ... the episode is not subtle, okay. Title and section headers are lyrics from Troy Baker's "Aftermath."

_Caught between the walls of wanting and my worst desires_

More often than not, Amora likes to be serviced directly on her throne, one leg hooked casually over an arm. "Come," she will beckon to her toy, and Thor will obey, somewhat glassy eyed, but no less loyal for it.

Even enchanted, the Son of Odin is a fast learner. Amora bares her nethers with a wave of her hand, and then cups Thor's face in one long-nailed hand as he settles with heavy grace upon his knees before her. "You know what to do, my beloved pet," she tells him, and while Thor can and has been utterly silent for days on end as she wills it, her spell does not keep him from using his mouth in other ways. 

Indeed, his fingers ghost over the lips of her vulva, naked save for a small thatch of blonde hairs at the top, and she stifles a moan so as not to encourage him. "No hands," she manages, and the next touch is, in fact, his mouth, pressing against the soft flesh of her privates, his nose brushing her bristly pubic hairs. "Good boy," Amora tells him, and reaches down to spread herself open with one hand. Thor's tongue sets to work, laving the warm folds of her cunt in slow, broad swipes. The excesses of his saliva comingling with her juices moisten the golden seat beneath her; suffice it to say, she has had ample time to perfect the brief incantation to magic it clean.

Thor's tongue laps suddenly at her clit, and she bucks. It's nice, but Amora is a greedy monarch. "Suck it," she orders, and Thor wraps his lips obediently around the small nub, indeed suckling with no small amount of pressure. "Nnn, keep doing ... that," Amora says, and pinches and tugs at her own nipples while Thor continues to lavish attention on her pussy. When she comes, he does not need to be told to swab over her quivering, soiled womanhood until it no longer drips with remnants of her arousal. 

She does not bother to cover herself right away. It would not be impossible to drag another two or three rounds from herself, with her fingers or even toys that aren't Thor, though her beautiful slave has certainly been put through the paces of wringing multiple orgasms from his mistress' cunt before. "My precious boy," she says, reaching out and curling a strand of that godly golden hair around her finger. Thor reacts to neither, but she thinks that if he could, he might even take pride in the quality of his work.

*

_The baddest traits I've said are wearing thin, again_

She's bouncing atop Thor's enormous cock, the pair seated atop her personal dais, when a wisp of green seidr, similar to her own but yet distinct, announces its caster. "Is this all you do all day now?" Loki scoffs, though he appears to drink in the dilapidated sight of his brother with a decidedly unbrotherly interest. 

Still, Amora stills somewhat, looking appropriately annoyed. "Jealous?" she queries with a small smirk. "Isn't this situation everything we both anticipated? You, the secret head of a successful criminal cabal, and I, the queen of my very own kingdom. Plus," she says, glancing at Thor fondly, "the knowledge that the Avengers absolutely cannot stop us this time."

Loki makes a noncommittal noise. "Is that your brother's hammer in your pocket?" Amora snickers, and Loki does not have to look down to verify that, in fact, the sights and sounds and smells before him have tented the front of his pants. "Oh, that's right, you can't lift it," Amora cackles, and he rolls his eyes.

"Laugh it up," he tells her. Still, he draws closer, bringing himself before Thor, his crotch eye level with his brother's quiet, talented mouth. He snaps a little, and Thor glances up at him hazily, as though he can almost place Loki with just a might more effort. "Service me," he orders, and Thor accepts the cock between his lips, the hand carding through his hair that then makes a fist to hold his head in place. Amora continues to fuck herself on Thor's own cock. Loki thinks he might have her lick both himself and Thor clean when everyone has found their release. 

*

_That perfect thing has always been a lie_

Sometimes, Amora dislikes when Loki decides to drop by. It is never pre-planned, a move she suspects is intentional on his part, the tacky little fuck, and she always worries he is going to decide that Thor is no longer hers to care for, to protect him from a universe that would task him with anything loftier than being her personal manservant and fucktoy.

Today, he is edgy, she can tell. "How is Midgard?" she asks, though she cares little for whatever tawdry plans Loki has to turn Earth into his own personal igloo, and they both know it. Sure enough, Loki waves her off, his eyes all for Thor, currently a rather obsequious decoration in her throne room, trussed up in magical chains that rope thoroughly around his nude form. He makes for a good conversation piece, among other things - Loki especially enjoys the dildo stuffed deeply into his brother's ass hole, itself sodden with Thor's own fluids - but as Amora suspects, the God of Mischief has little interest in small talk today.

"What are you doing?" she demands nonetheless, when Loki tugs the wadded cloth from between Thor's teeth, holding it aloft in one hand. "Loki no, I don't want him to know that he's-"

"Hush," Loki waves her off, and refocuses on Thor. "I am merely playing with him a bit." The gesture is familiar, and Thor's sudden recognition of the both of them, once Amora's enchantment is temporarily lifted, is near immediate. He stares wildly, numbly, around the expanse of Amora's admittedly humble domain.

"Brother, please." Thor's eyes are wide, and oh, she thinks with perverse delight, he's actually going to cry at the indignity of it all. "You can't, I've been here far too long, you must let me ... I don't know how I-"

"Hush," Loki commands again. With faux fondness, he makes a show of wiping at the dampness below Thor's watery blue eyes with the cloth; then, with a wicked grin, reaches beneath his brother and collects some of the wetness leaking from Thor's ass around the dildo with the same cloth. Thor tries but briefly to turn away, but manages only to let out a muffled moue of disgust when the gag is shoved between his teeth anew. "Perfection," Loki says, and even bends to press a disturbingly gentle kiss to Thor's forehead, earning him a soft whimper. 

Then, just as quickly as the spell was lifted, Loki waves a hand boredly, and it settles over Thor anew. Indeed, the gaze that greets him now is much more vague than a moment ago. "As you were," Loki drawls, patting Thor on the cheek and then moving to take his leave. Once gone, Amora releases a small sigh of relief, and relaxes the surprisingly tense grip she has on her throne.

*

_On a battlefield where the path to love is dark_

She likes to edge Thor, to tease him with her hand and mouth and even feet if the mood strikes, keeping him on edge, delighting in the glassy, pleading gazes he favors her with, the soft grunts that slip through even her tightest silencing spells. Sometimes, she enjoys hearing him talk, listening to the deep gasps, ordering him to beg her for release. 

One afternoon, she makes him fuck himself on his hammer, and orders him describe the sensation as he writhes atop Mjolnir's stumpy handle. "Thank you, gracious, beautiful mistress," Thor espouses when he has at last been brought to release, and Amora contents herself with deciding that it's almost (but not quite) as good as if he were saying these things of his own volition. 

*

_Let me burn this tattered picture, faded from lost time_

When they come for him, when they take him away and destroy her beautiful kingdom, there is an acute sense of loss. Her precious, despoiled toy has been ripped from her, like a newborn babe from an unworthy mother, and when the tears come, streaming bitterly and hot down her cheeks, she is too miserable even to wipe them away; and then when the Beyonder comes for Asgard, when he seeks to turn her into his own personal special edition collector's doll, she can barely bring it upon herself to care, let alone fight back.


End file.
